Bound to You
by morecolorfulmoniker
Summary: Originally posted as a crossover with Burlesque, but I decided to just move it over into the OUAT category to make it more easily searchable. Killian Jones is an aspiring songwriter who moved from Ireland to LA to pursue a dream that he has all but lost hope in...until one night when he enters a lounge by the name of Burlesque and finds inspiration in a singer named Emma Swan.
1. Chapter 1

**I originally posted this first chapter on Tumblr for CS AU month, not sure if I wanted to continue it or not, but I checked it back over tonight and thought that it was something worth pursuing further because I have so many ideas. I was inspired after watching Burlesque one night to combine the two worlds, so I certainly hope you enjoy it!**

He fell with a dejected huff into a stool at the bar, mumbling his order to the bartender and waiting for the glass of rum that would hopefully render him blissfully unaware enough to forget about the day he'd just had…or rather, the life he was currently living.

No jobs. Of course there wouldn't be any jobs. How could he expect to find a job in Los Angeles, of all places, by far the busiest city he'd ever visited? It wasn't enough that he'd left Ireland with hardly a dollar to his name in pursuit of some crazy dream of being a songwriter. No. He had to prove his father right. The father who abandoned him when he was a teenager, telling him that dreams never amount to anything and fleeing in the middle of the night to avoid arrest for crimes the likes of which Killian never desired to know.

He'd lost his inspiration. His passion. He was chasing a dream that no longer seemed to belong to him. It was the only goal, the only aspiration he'd ever sought to achieve, but somewhere along the way, he'd lost his heart.

He threw back the rum, savoring the burn in his throat as he tapped the glass on the bar, attempting to signal the bartender, who seemed to be pre-occupied flirting with the rather scantily clad waitress. It was at that moment that he heard it.

A voice. An incredible voice, slicing through the silence so smoothly that the beauty of it seemed to cut through him, straight to his core. He grasped his chest, never knowing such a satisfying pain before in his entire life, never hearing something so incredibly perfect that had he been standing, he would have fallen to his knees. There were no words…at least, not at first. Just several long belts with flourishes that transitioned effortlessly from one note to the next, a full voice supporting each and every one.

He exhaled the breath he'd been holding in, slowly spinning around on the stool for fear that if he moved too quickly, it would all be a dream. When he finally allowed himself to look up, in the direction of the voice, he knew that what he was seeing couldn't possibly be real. Standing at the center of a stage, bathed in crimson light, was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on, producing the most unbelievable voice he'd ever heard. Her long golden curls were draped around her face, the emerald green of her eyes visible from where he sat at the back of the room. She wore black leather from head to toe complete with knee-high boots that hugged her long, perfect legs. If he hadn't been entirely mesmerized by her voice, he was now overwhelmed by her total being.

_Pardon the way that I stare _

_There's nothing else to compare _

_The sight of you leaves me weak _

_There are no words left to speak _

_So if you feel like I feel _

_Please let me know that it's real _

_You're just too good to be true _

_Can't take my eyes off of you_

He knew the song. The words registered somewhere in the back of his mind, but she could have convinced him that they all belonged to her. He sat paralyzed by wonder, knowing that if he never heard any sound but her voice, never focused his gaze on any other sight but her, he would still be complete. She had awakened something in him that he'd long since lost. He could almost hear entirely new melodies being written in the sound of her voice, words forming themselves out of thin air and streaming throughout his mind. He never believed in muses…in fact, as a child he scoffed at the folklore of the leannán sí, a fairy being that craved the love of mortals who found inspiration through her. But there was no doubt in his mind that this woman was a muse sent to inspire his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**So...my first day off of work in a VERY LONG TIME, and I wanted to write more on this but just couldn't find the inspiration to get started...and then as I was flipping through the channels on TV, Burlesque was just coming on ABC Family. I took that as a definite sign and sat down to write, and this is what happened. Sorry it's taken so long! Hopefully future chapters will come more frequently! Enjoy and as always, please let me know what you think!**

_Oh pretty baby, don't bring me down I pray  
Oh pretty baby, now that I've found you stay  
And let me love you baby, let me love you_

The room fell into darkness around her, the applause filling her ears as she turned and made her way backstage.

"Amazing!" Coco exclaimed with a wink.

"You say that every night," she replied with a playful roll of her eyes.

"Because it's true!" Georgia added as she squeezed her shoulder. "And did you _see_ that hottie at the bar? If I wasn't married…" she trailed off, twisting the wedding ring around her finger with a grin that she couldn't easily conceal.

"So...there was a guy at the bar. Last time I checked, they don't all come to hear us sing," she responded, sighing as she sat on a nearby stool.

She loved singing and performing at Burlesque. Tess gave her a chance when no one else would…when she had all but booked her ticket back to Boston, any hope of achieving her dream of being a singer nearly lost. She walked in to the club one night, seeking refuge from the rain, and suddenly she felt like she was home. She couldn't explain it because even she didn't know why. She'd been alone her entire life. Found abandoned on the side of the road shortly after she was born, entered into the system and passed from foster family to foster family, and finally tossed out on the street when she turned 18. She worked odd jobs here and there for several years to earn enough money to move out to LA, where she hoped to find a job doing the only thing she'd ever really loved to do. But the second she walked in to Burlesque, she had found more than just a job...she had finally found her family.

And truth be told, she admitted silently to herself, she _had_ noticed the guy at the bar. Those bright blue eyes practically blinded her as she passed her gaze over the crowd during her performance. Most of them were just the regulars who came because they, too, called the club home. There was the usual group of tourists spread throughout the room, their eyes wide as they encountered an experience they didn't have back in their hometowns. But there was something different about him. Something unique. And she had to know what that something was.

"I need a drink. You ladies want anything?" she asked as she stood from her stool and started towards the stairs that led out to the main lounge, rolling her eyes at Georgia's response of "You need something from the bar but not a drink".

She walked calmly, slowly through the bar, flashing a few dazzling smiles to the regulars who kept the place running with their patronage. She didn't realize she'd reached the bar until a hand touched her shoulder and she jumped, hand balled into a fist out of pure instinct.

"Another impressive performance from an equally impressive lady," Sean said from his usual corner of the bar, lighting a fresh cigarette and putting it to his lips.

"I do it all for you," she teased, relaxing.

"We both know that's not true," he said with a wink as she turned to the bar.

"Russ?" she asked, searching for the bartender who seemed to always be doing more flirting than drink mixing. "Russ!" she said again, louder this time, but it appeared that one of the new waitresses had caught his eye on this particular night, and he stood at the opposite side of the bar, checking her out as she leaned over to pass a drink to a customer. "Damn it, Russ," she muttered under her breath, directing an annoyed look at Sean, who knew exactly what she was thinking.

"Don't look at me like that. If there was another bartender out there to hire who would do his job rather than ogle the barely-dressed waitresses, we'd put him to work. At this rate, you might as well pour your whiskey yourself," he mumbled in his typical way, his lips still pressed together around his cigarette. She rolled her eyes, leaning over to try to reach the bottle of whiskey before her weight shifted and she nearly tipped over into a collection of glass bottles. Before she could brace for a painful impact, something pulled her back, setting her on her feet again on the right side of the bar. She looked to Sean, who shook his head, his eyes wide and fixed on something just over her shoulder as she turned and met the eyes of her mystery man, who quickly glanced away but not before sitting a glass down on the bar in front of her.

It was the most breathtaking shade of blue she'd ever seen, in his eyes. It took her several seconds to recover from the initial shock, but once she had, she still couldn't believe that he was real.

A mess of dark hair fell into his face, scraggly but somehow fitting. His skin was so pale it practically glowed in the darkness. But the way he sat, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed…he was living a hard life. She didn't know a thing about him, but she knew that kind of sadness. Because she'd once been in his place. Sometimes she still was.

"Thank you," she said, leaning closer to get his attention. He turned back towards her and their eyes met again, that striking blue nearly knocking her off of her feet.

"No problem," he said, his voice low and smooth, a thick accent apparent though she couldn't quite place it…Irish? It figured that he would also have that foreign charm about him. "I…I saw your performance," he added after a moment, scratching absentmindedly at the back of his head. "You have an incredible voice. Do you mind my asking…" he trailed off, glancing away, apparently unsure as to how to continue.

"…what a girl like her is doing in a place like this?" Sean finished his unspoken question from his spot on her other side as the mystery man nodded nervously. "We ask ourselves the same question," he said, snuffing out his cigarette in an ashtray sitting nearby and retreating backstage but not before mouthing the words "Oh my God" to her as he left.

"I sing here because they saw me before anyone else. And when it's something you love, you want it to always be for you, not someone else. Singing here…it's for me. That probably sounds stupid," she said with a forced laugh, though he looked back at her and shook his head.

"I know what you mean," he said softly. She fell into the empty stool next to him, desperate to know more about this apparently broken man sitting before her. He must have been in his mid-20s, somewhere around her age, but the lines on his face and the dark circles beneath his eyes added years that he hadn't yet lived.

She reached for the glass he'd set in front of her, bringing it to her lips and taking a sip of the amber liquid inside, recognizing its satisfying burn instantly.

"How did you know that I drink whiskey?" she asked as he smiled for the first time and she found that her heart stopped for a moment as that brightness drifted up into his eyes.

"I overheard your conversation. And I'd ordered a glass of rum from your incompetent bartender, but this is what he gave me, so I suppose I got lucky."

"Do you think you could do better?"

"Better at what, love?" he asked, his use of suck a nickname nearly making her blush.

"Bartending. The Irish know their liquor, right?" she asked with a smirk.

"I'm not sure if I should be impressed by your recognition of an Irish accent or offended at your use of a common and – in this case – entirely accurate sterotype," he teased. "But in answer to your question, yes, I know that I could do better. And I would do it without – how did the other man say it – ogling the barely-dressed waitresses," he added, casting a glance towards Russ, who was still staring intently at his target of the night

"Why, are you gay?" she asked before she realized she'd said it, immediately hanging her head, her cheeks burning hot with embarrassment. He laughed, low and soft, and she forced herself to meet his eyes again.

"No, like all straight men, I am not immune to the charms of an overwhelmingly beautiful woman," he said, letting his gaze drift from hers down to her feet and back up. Any other time, the amount of attention she was garnering from a man sitting at the bar would have been accurately compared with a wild dog being teased with a piece of meat, but with this particular man…she knew it was more than that. Or maybe she just wanted it to be more than that. "But I'm always a gentleman. Or at least, I always try to be," he added after a moment, pulling her out of her thoughts and shaking his own head, as if lost in his mind as well. "But a gentleman would have introduced himself upon meeting a beautiful woman, so I suppose I can't say 'always' anymore. I'm Killian. Killian Jones," he said, extending his hand that she reached out to shake.

"Emma. Emma Swan."


	3. Chapter 3

**So after writing the second chapter from Emma's perspective, I figured that it might be cool to switch perspectives every other chapter, so in this chapter, you'll get to be in Killian's head. I just sat down and typed out this entire chapter a few minutes ago and I was so excited to share, so I hope that my muse made some sense! Andddd I know that the end of the chapter reads like a final ending, but trust me, it's not. I saw it as more of a beginning...we're starting to get into the part of the fic that I saw flashes of when I wrote that first chapter and made that graphic for CS AU month, but to be honest, until I sit down and write it, I have no idea where it's actually going to go apart from bits and pieces, so if you're still with me, I'm glad you've decided to come along for the ride!**

His lips were on her skin – her hand, to be more precise – but even that was enough to render him incapable of coherent thought.

"Well, Emma Swan, it has been an absolute pleasure, but I should be going," he said as he turned and made his way towards the door.

Emma. Emma Swan. His muse had a name. And she was more than he ever could have imagined her to be. Charming and playful and genuine. Real. So why was he leaving? Because he knew that if he stayed, he would tell her of the instant connection that he felt the moment he heard her voice. And to tell a woman like her, whose beauty must have demanded the attention of every man she encountered…every straight man, he jokingly corrected himself as he remembered her quip, though he was certain that anyone who laid eyes on her - straight or gay, man or woman – would be mesmerized by her very presence…that he was inspired by her existence would seem exactly the way that it was…strange. But to Killian, it felt…right. She felt right. It was as if every decision he had ever made had led him to this moment, to her. He couldn't explain why, and he sure as hell didn't know what it all meant, but as wrong as it felt to leave her, he knew that she would never understand…especially when even he didn't understand.

"Killian," she called from her spot at the bar as he found himself painting a mental picture of her lips wrapping around his name. He stopped, transfixed, and turned back to her, her emerald green eyes staring straight through him as she bit down on her lip, apparently nervous for a moment though he had no idea why, before recovering and flashing him a dazzling smile that nearly knocked him off his feet. "You said you could do better. Prove it."

"D-do better at what, love?" he stammered, his calm façade cracking beneath the power this woman held over him with just a smile.

"Bartending," she answered as he recalled their conversation seconds before. He was finding it increasingly difficult to remember even his own name as she pinned him to his spot in the floor with a simple look.

"Don't tell me you're the star of the show _and_ the personnel manager," he quipped, shocked that he could still manage to form words, especially when she diverted her gaze, her cheeks visibly red even under the low lighting.

"No, that would be Tess and Sean. But I've been here long enough to know when someone belongs," she said, meeting his eyes again before turning to Russ, who was busy stuffing a piece of paper – probably a phone number – into his shirt pocket. "…and when someone doesn't."

"And what makes you think I belong?" he asked without a hint of teasing or flirtation. From the moment that he'd stepped foot inside the Burlesque lounge, he no longer felt as if he was just another face in a nameless crowd. He felt like he'd finally found a place to call home. But he had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't necessarily the lounge itself that was making him feel that way.

"Maybe you remind me of someone," she answered, her expression sobering to reflect his.

"And who might that be, Emma?" he asked, already knowing what her answer would be, as if he could read every thought that rested behind those green eyes.

"Why don't you come back tomorrow to find out?" she responded without hesitation, proving to him that even when he thought that he understood this impossible woman who was apparently more than possible, she would always be a mystery. A mystery he would gladly spend his time attempting to solve.

And though he nodded, tipping an imaginary hat that he wasn't wearing, flashed her a smile, and walked out of the bar through the very same door he'd come in such a short time ago with the promise of his return hanging in the air around him, Killian knew that _he_ wasn't the same. And maybe this was what – or who - he'd been searching for all along.


End file.
